I love late months with their rumpled
and scrolled statements. Presence
of frost and cold moonlight. Sap
descends to root. Deciduous green
disappears leaving fiery scarlet
and turtlehead brown. Shedding
and decay show death but
is it a trick? What does the Monarch
know as it heads for the high
forests of Mexico? What wisdom
does the catfish carry as it lies
dormant in deep river holes?
Sure as morning
life preserves itself.